The Revelation

King Mars

Approaching the Mouth of the Stairwell of the Northwestern Turret

Birchlire Castle, Notting Thicket

WODELL

Mars was not in a good mood.

There were many reasons for this.

The current one, however, was that he could not find his wife.

She was not in their rooms.

She was not in any rooms in the northwestern turret.

And his palace in Fire City was large, but this castle was monstrous.

He did not fancy searching the hundreds of rooms in it to find his queen.

He fancied disrobing his wife, making love to her, then falling asleep so this loathsome day could be at an end.

“Good, there you are.”

He heard these words when he’d descended the last step to the turret and turned around its corner, a corner that hid the mouth of the stairwell from the hall.

Ridiculous.

Offensively, you could not descend that stairwell and know what was in the hall below you.

Defensively, you could not turn and aim at it if it was chasing you.

Though you could hide behind it.

And it did not surprise him such was designed by King Wilmer’s forebears.

He could not think on that in the now.

For his day just got worse, as impossible as that was for Mars to believe.

Because he apparently was going to have a confrontation with Silence’s father, who they had, until that very moment, successfully avoided since Johan and Vanka followed them from the Arbor to Notting Thicket.

“I’m in no mood, Johan,” he declared, not breaking stride, intent to move right past him.

“I’ll take my treasure now,” Johan said by way of retort.

Mars stopped as he came parallel, turned his head and looked down at the man.

“I’m sorry?”

“You said, in Fire City, that if I were to leave my daughter to her own life, the life she now has with you, that you would shower me with treasure,” Johan explained. “I’ve decided I will happily do that. Therefore, you can have those chests of gems and coins you promised me sent directly to Bower Manor.”

“I’m not providing you that treasure,” Mars informed him.

“You bloody are,” Johan spat.

Mars grew silent and stared down at him, making an effort to control his impatience.

It was then he smelled her.

Indeed, he fancied he could smell her perfume from ten kilometers away.

Not because it was strong.

But because it was hers.

Freesias.

His wife approached.

And not only could she shadow herself so others around her could not see (and she’d demonstrated this to him, even if he could always see her, he’d been in awe that others could not), she also informed him she could hear exceptionally well.

She’d further demonstrated that.

She’d make an excellent spy.

Though that would not ever happen.

“As I said, I’m in no mood, Johan,” he repeated.

“I don’t care what mood you’re in,” Johan returned.

“And you must trust me, you do not wish to discuss it now either,” Mars advised.